As comprehension dawned, Slate felt a wave of irrational anger come over him. He narrowed his eyes and craned his neck in April’s direction. She spotted this, put her hands on her hips, and glowered back at him defiantly, as if to say, “I never actually said he was a Bug-type specialist!”
She hadn’t, of course. Slate had just assumed it to be the case when she mentioned her brother battling a Despupa. Now that he thought about it, wasn’t Melissa supposed to be a Bug-type user? The Pokémon League would hardly employ two Gym Leaders with the same elemental specialty. Knowledge of type effectiveness was one of the key factors by which they tested Trainers undergoing the Gym Challenge, after all.
Chastising himself for his stupidity, Slate took a deep focusing breath. Battling against a Dark-type with his two Normal-types wasn’t that big a difference from facing Bug-types. Neither were especially effective against the other.
Even as he thought this, though, he realized the situation had changed. This evolved form of Mardupe’s Dark typing wasn’t important. It was its secondary type that concerned him. Powsom was part Fighting-type, the only type that was super-effective against Normal. He was in trouble.
Slate suddenly found himself regretting his haste to battle today, and even his trading away Haughron. Maybe the Flying-type Pokémon could have helped him if he had trained it harder, or if he had been a better Trainer. At this, Slate slapped both hands to his cheeks to banish the thoughts. It was no use thinking like that. He had a match to win.
“Begin!” the referees instructed.
“Cryote, Echoed Voice!” Slate ordered.
“Powsum, Karate Chop!” the mayor responded.
Powsum dashed forward at speed, a glean in its x-patterned eyes. As the pup’s perfectly aimed bark of sound approached, it sliced through the distorted air with the edge of its hand and kept on running, seemingly unfazed by the attack.
“Again, Cryote!” Slate instructed, but it was no use. Even when powered up by consecutive use, the pup’s second Echoed Voice was all but negated by the Fighting-type’s powerful blow.
Powsum closed in and swung its arm down forcefully, hissing as its hand connected with Cryote’s head, then retreated with a nimble reverse somersault.
Slate stared on in horror as Cryote’s legs splayed out beneath it and it dropped to the floor without so much as a whine. “One hit?” he whispered to himself. He knew Cryote had already sustained some damage, and that the move had been super-effective, but still…
On the sidelines, April had covered her mouth with both hands.
“Cryote is unable to battle,” called the referees, their arms raised toward Mayor Douglas.
Slate returned Cryote to its capsule. “You did great, boy,” he said, then reached for his Poké Belt. He couldn’t use his erratic Crimsant. It would be too big a gamble. His only chance was to stick with his original plan, even with a type disadvantage.
Before he threw out Eevee’s ball, Slate reflected on Mayor Douglas’ strategy. He used Despupa to chip away at opponents and lull their Trainers into expecting a technical battle, then surprised them with the offensively focused Powsom. It was a clever ruse. “It’s up to you, Eevee!”
The cute and fluffy brown creature emerged looking like it was itching to fight. Its legs were tensed, and its teeth were bared.
“An Eevee? How lovely,” said the mayor. “But alas, another Normal-type…”
“Eevee can hold its own,” Slate assured him.
“Begin!” the referees instructed.
“Powsom, Karate Chop!”
“Eevee, Double Kick!”
The mayor raised an eyebrow with intrigue as the two Pokémon advanced on one another. Slate may indeed have selected a second Normal-type but out of necessity not error. He understood type effectiveness just fine, and Eevee’s Double Kick would be super-effective on its part Dark-type foe.
Just as Powsom brought down the palm edge that had rendered Cryote unconscious, Eevee twisted around and met the back of it with a hind leg, deflecting the blow. It then followed up with its second leg. However, Powsom spun and chopped with its left hand. Like a true martial arts battle, the parries were exchanged continuously, neither Pokémon allowing the other to land a blow.
Slate grinned. Eevee may not be a Fighting-type, but during their training, he had come to realize how much the Pokémon enjoyed using its moves. It was a natural combatant, and surely had more battle experience than his mother had ever let on.
After a minute passed without any successful attacks, the two Pokémon separated, creating some distance between them as they awaited further instruction.
“Impressive,” the mayor remarked. “Let’s see what we can do about that. Powsom, use Torment!”
Slate despaired, knowing that Torment would prevent Eevee from using its moves consecutively. If successful, it wouldn’t be able to fight as freely as it just had. Seeking to prevent the status move from taking effect, he commanded, “Eevee, Quick Attack!”
Eevee propelled itself across the field. In less than two seconds, it had barreled into the foe’s chest, knocking it backward.
“Double Kick,” said Slate.
Before it could, Powsom arose, hissed strangely, and pointed its paw in Eevee’s direction.
Slate cursed internally. He felt sure that Eevee had just been inflicted with Torment. When the mayor ordered a Karate Chop, he knew for sure.
Eevee met the Powsom’s chop with its kick as ordered. However, it was unable to do so a second time, and a follow-up chop from its foe made the creature cry out.
“Eevee!” Slate called with concern. “Retreat!”
The brown Pokémon trotted back toward Slate. Its breath was labored.
“Keep up the pressure, Powsom!” said the mayor with a wicked grin.
“You’re going to have to switch up your moves, Eevee,” Slate explained. “Move around the field and toggle between Quick Attack and Swift to keep it away from you.”
Eevee nodded in understanding and got to work. It shot across the field and collided with Powsom, then ran back to Slate, and fired a volley of its star-shaped rays with a whip of its sparkling tail.
“Two can play at that game,” the mayor retorted excitedly. It was had to believe now that the man had not wanted to go ahead with the battle. “Powsom, use Karate Chop and Backhand to defend, but don’t stop advancing.”
The battle became a matter of speed. As Eevee darted around and dived in and out of range, Powsom chopped at its sparkling rays and tried to Backhand it during its speedy tackles.
That’s three, thought Slate, noting that Powsom only had one more unknown move. Was the mayor saving it for the right moment, as he had done with Despupa’s Devour? If so, it was coming soon. The two Pokémon were beginning to tire.
“It’s time to finish it, Powsom!” the mayor suddenly roared, after Eevee retreated following its last Quick Attack.
This was it, he was making his move, and Slate noticed that there was some distance between the Pokémon. Was it as he expected? Was the mayor saving a surprise? Could it be a long-distance Special-based move? If so, he wasn’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve, but Slate’s was risky. “Eevee, brace yourself!” he cried, pulling his Rotom Phone from his pocket in anticipation.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Chi-Thrust!” the mayor ordered, pointing his cane out dramatically.
As Eevee lowered itself to the ground, squinted, and curled its tail between its legs, Powsom waved its hands around in an odd movement and sounded like it was taking in a deep, rasping breath. Suddenly, the white-faced Pokémon expelled its breath while thrusting out a palm, as if striking an invisible foe.
There was no subsequent flash or distortion or anything else Slate might have expected. However, a second later, Eevee yelped loudly and was tumbling uncontrollably backward across the field.
“Eevee, hold on!” Slate said while consulting his Pokédex for an answer. His eyes lit up when he understood what had occurred. If Eevee could just hold on, his plan would win them the match. That was a big if, though.
On either side of the field, the two referees were observing Eevee keenly, who had stopped rolling but hadn’t yet arisen.
“Eevee, hang in there,” Slate encouraged.
April cheered, “You can do it, Eevee!”
The fluffy creature arose on shaking legs, growling, and with a fierce look in its eyes.
“Alright!” Slate yelled. “Now, use Copycat!”
“Copycat?” the mayor questioned. “But that means…”
Eevee closed its eyes in focus as a faint white aura covered its body. It then whipped its tail like it usually did when using Swift.
Once again, Slate saw no apparent release of energy, but an instant later, the Powsom on the other side of the field was hurtling through the air. Unlike Eevee, however, it didn’t get back up.
“Powsom is unable to battle,” the referees announced, their arms raised toward Slate. “Victory goes to the Challenger!”
BATTLE WINNER: Slate
*Ping*. “Gym Battle win recorded,” Slate’s Rotom Phone announced.
Slate punched the air, whooping with elation. He did it. He won his first official Gym match! He ran forward and scooped up Eevee, who smiled softly as it collapsed into the safety of his arms and closed its eyes from fatigue. “You were awesome!” he said, retrieving its Silph Ball. “Get some rest. I’ll get you healed up, then we can celebrate.”
Eevee purred happily as it was returned to its capsule.
“Good job, Kanto boy!” said April, who had made her way over from the spectator’s bench. “I still don’t get what happened at the end, though.”
Slate replayed the battle’s final moments for her, “The mayor’s a clever battler. He was trying to make me think Powsom was a close-range fighter, but he was saving a Special move for the end, one he could use at a distance. I know Eevee has good stamina, though, so I took a risk. When the time was right, he had Powsom use Chi-Thrust, a Special Fighting-type move. Eevee managed to hold on, even though it was super-effective, then used Copycat.”
“Copycat?”
“It lets a Pokémon use their opponent’s last move.”
“So, Eevee actually used Chi-Thrust?” April considered. “Which was super effective on Powsom as well? Because it’s part Dark-type?”
Slate nodded affirmatively as he took his bag from April, put it on, and secured his Rotom Phone to the strap.
“That was smart,” she said with a tone of surprise. “Risky, but smart.”
“Thanks. I owe Eevee and Cryote a special treat!”
“That was quite a battle, young man,” Mayor Douglas remarked as he approached the pair.
For some reason, he looked particularly dejected. In fact, he looked downright depressed as he fiddled uncomfortably with his cane and wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Slate hoped the man wasn’t a sore loser. That would be a little pathetic for someone his age.
“Congratulations. I award you the Guile Badge,” he said mournfully, holding out a silver and steel blue pin.
Slate beamed as he accepted the badge and pinned it to his inner pocket, tickled by its name and brain-inspired design, which were a good fit with the Dark-type and the mayor’s strategic battle style. To his surprise, the mayor then leaned forward for a hug of sorts and patted him on the back.
“Run,” the man surreptitiously whispered into his ear. “Go now, quickly!”
The words sent a chill down Slate’s spine, but when the mayor leaned back and stepped away from Slate, he showed no sign of acknowledgment of what he had said. Slate didn’t know what to think. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. Strange and confusing though it was, Slate chose to heed the mayor’s advice.
“Let’s go,” he said to April.
“What? Don’t be so rude! It’s not every day you get to speak with the mayor,” she chastised.
Slate groaned internally. Something was very wrong here. Why had the mayor felt it necessary to whisper his warning? They were alone on the rooftop except for…
“Prepare for trouble!” the female referee declared, removing her hat to reveal a shock of shoulder-length red hair.
“Make it double!” said the male one. Familiar indigo spikes were hiding under his.
Slate was rendered speechless. He recognized both of them now despite the absence of their black suits. But what were they doing here, and why were they posing as referees?
Blocking the path to the elevators, they continued to speak in turn.
“To perfect the world and end stagnation!”
“To ignite a fire across our nation!”
“To denounce the evils of sloth and apathy!”
“To extend our reach across the galaxy!”
“Bonnie!”
“Parker!”
“Team Shade will cast its shadow over all!”
“Surrender now, or prepare to fall!”
“What the…?” said April. “Why are they rhyming? Is this some sort of celebration for you winning the match?”
Just then, a *ding* sounded.
Slate shot April a look of warning. “It’s Team Shade!” he hissed, unsure how the intelligent girl had not made the connection, even after their bizarre performance.
From the elevator, six black-suited goons flooded onto the rooftop. One of them adorned Bonnie and Parker with insignia-marked suit jackets.
A grave look of understanding came over April’s face.
At once, the thugs began releasing Pokémon, including a veritable swarm of Slugish, and the Mystyke and Colosslug that Slate had defeated previously. Then, as if from nowhere, A helicopter zoomed noisily over the rooftop. It passed by, then began to circle above. They were surrounded.
“I told you this wasn’t over,” said Bonnie with a smirk.
“End of the line, kiddies! You’re coming with us!” said Parker.
Slate gritted his teeth. There were too many of them, and who knows how many more in the chopper. His strongest Pokémon, Eevee and Cryote, were exhausted from their battles. Team Shade had surely planned it that way. Could his other Pokémon manage against so many? Maybe together with April’s…and the mayor’s! Maybe the mayor had other Pokémon on him?
As if in answer to his prayers, Mayor Douglas revealed a Silph Ball and released an impressive-looking Myschief.
Slate breathed a sigh of relief. With the aid of a Gym Leader, they could put up a good fight. Crimsant would surely battle if forced to, and April’s Pokémon had grown somewhat stronger over the last month. There was still hope.
“I’m so sorry,” said the mayor.
“Mr. Mayor?” April asked with fear in her voice.
“Myschief, use Hypnosis,” he instructed regretfully.
“What? No!” Slate exclaimed as the black and pink Pokémon began to wave its hands rhythmically back and forth, back and forth, back and forth… He reached desperately for Crimsant’s Silph Ball, but his fingers fumbled on his belt, refusing to move as he willed. He couldn’t believe this was happening.
As his vision blurred, Slate’s thoughts turned to Cryote, Eevee, and the others, and then to his mother. Were Team Shade going to steal his Pokémon? Were they going to wipe his mind? He didn’t know, and within seconds, he ceased caring. All he could think of was closing his eyes and succumbing to oblivion. Before he knew it, he was joining April in a heap on the cold floor, asleep and helpless.
TO BE CONTINUED
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